Utterly Ridiculousby RainbowBobChaptersChapter 1: Steve Does It AgainChapter 2: Magical MeatChapter 3: That Ain't CalamariChapter 4: Goddamn AussiesChapter 1: Steve Does It AgainTIME: 20:56 DATE: 02/02/84 LOCATION: 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W, within the remains of Old York City, Times Square The team has been called into the area because of a recent fluctuation with radio signals. Once the radiation suits had been donned and the immediate location scanned for mutants, it was deemed safe to search. No immediate threats were detected. Radar picked up no scans of enemy targets or even a hint of a Robotic Ruskie in the area. A fallout still hung overhead, which won’t be going away anytime soon for nearly twenty years now. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining radioactive snow on any of the team. Radiation-proof umbrellas are just too damn expensive. Eventually, the disturbance in the radio signal was discovered. And not a moment too soon. The lotto was about to start. The East Coast Correlation of Yanks were threatening to bomb TexasCo (again) because of it. Damn state-countries can’t get it together with these types of emergencies. One of the team members, let’s call him Steve (note that all team members are referred as Steve, even the females, mostly to save time and because they die too soon for us to remember their names or care about it), was the first to discover the disturbance. From what he’s frantically screaming in our compiece, it’s apparently a doozy. Apparently it’s nothing to really be excited about. Just another portal to a different dimension. However, this one was actually big enough for someone to fit through, which was quite different than those others that just poured toxic chemicals or candy wrappers wherever they pop up. I swear, they’re becoming more annoying than frontal lobe advertisements. Since the portal was messing with the radio signals, something had to be done about it. The team was originally intended to handle malfunctioning electrical boxes, shorted out cable wires, and the odd psychopath with an axe made out of recycled soda cans, but they had the clearance for the go-ahead to explore inside the portal. Who knew how long it would stay open. Plus, like I said, threat of nuclear annihilation between two former Amerika state-countries. Something like that hasn’t happened since last October (no one liked Kansas Korp anyway). Once they entered the portal we lost all visual contact with the team, but we did have voice communications up and running, so this is what we were able to gleam from their discover. “Holy shit, it’s sunny here.” “Can you smell that? It’s fresh air! Oh Gawd, I never thought I’d smell it again!” “I don’t even have a nose and I can tell it’s fresh!” “Whoa, whoa, guys, look! It’s the sun! And my skin isn’t immediately burning off! This is amazing!” “By Gandhi's nuclear, zombified corpse, this place has grass! And not just GRASS™, but actual grass!” “OH GAWD THEY HAVE WATER AND MY TEETH AREN’T FALLING OFF BY DRINKING IT! THIS IS HEAVEN!” Apparently from the recordings the team had found a true paradise not on Earth. When we pressed them to explore further, Steve told us to fuck off because he was sniffing flowers. We deducted such a remark on the marks in Steve’s paycheck. We don’t know which Steve so we just chose one from random. That’d show him. Good thing for us, the team didn’t need to explore further before some natives discovered them. We were surprised the team wasn’t killed immediately by some weird alien monster thingy, and that surprise just grew more so when we heard this. “Uh, excuse me. Who are you monst—erm, things… people. Just what are you?” “By the Queen’s cyborg heart, it’s a talking midget horse!” “You mean a pony?” “Nah, that’s clearly a dog.” “Dogs can talk?” “With an implant I think you can make them. You just gotta—” “Excuse me! I still have a question.” “We, tiny-midget-talking-horse, are a group of adventurers from a far away land. We are in the search for a great treasure. You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have any hotpockets and Mt. Dew on you, perchance? Ever since the Ruskies stole the Mt. Dew factories from the moon I haven’t had a sip in ages!” “I’m… not even sure what Mt. Dew is. And did you just say you’re from the moon? And what’s a hotpocket?” This continued on for a tedious five minutes. We learned the midget horse was called Twilight Sparkle, apparently some princess or some shit like that. It was very hard to pay attention because the team kept on raving about how large the creatures’ eyes were. Also, the colors. Most of them were color blind due to birth defects, but apparently it was still pretty neat. Oh, also the fact that the creatures had freakishly large craniums and some even had horns and wings. Looks like they had worse birth defects than we did. One of the team was worried the midget horse was going to suck his brains out through a straw. Ha, classic Steve. Oh, anyway, another recording got through before the, well, end. “Are you guys eating the grass now?” “Better than what the serve back home!” “I don’t really think that’s healthy.” “Nah, it’s fine. I have more tumors than stomach at this point.” “Uh, look, I think you all really need to… well, leave. Some other ponies from Ponyville are freaking out at the sight of you. One of your people tried to ride them.” “Ha, classic Steve.” “Listen, it’s not funny. None of that is. We tried to get along with you people through understanding and acceptance, but you just shoved it aside and asked for more hotpockets.” “Your hotpockets are too cold, by the way.” “I don’t even know what a hotpocket is, by the way. I tried to learn more about who and what you are from the short time that you’ve been here, and from the gist of it, I don’t like it a bit. Especially Nixonlord. Jeez, what a creep.” “Hey, I didn’t vote for him.” “I did it five times.” “Gawddamnit, Steve.” “Still, even the most fundamental lesson about friendship I tried to teach you was thrown back into my face.” “Because friendship is gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” “Now, that isn’t very nice to say.” “No, it is, literally. Friendship means happiness. And everything knows happiness is gay.” “...” “Hey Steve, you’re gay, right?” “Go back through your damn portal.” And with that the team was pushed back through. No sign of Steve though. One can only think he stayed behind, forever in bliss in the midget horse lands. Or he could be dead. Either way, we spent his paycheck on hookers. Good news is that the radio signal was fixed and Steve was dead. Bad news is that the different dimension was really stuck up and lame. Just like the cuddling bear tattoo dimension. Or the fuzzy dinosaur one. Man, what a bunch of lame-o’s. Oh hey, we’re still getting a signal from Steve in the other dimension. “My Little Midget Horse, My Little Midget Horse.” “Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahhh…” “I used to wonder what friendship could be.” “Until all you sha—” … That was about it. Well, other than savage beating and cries for help. But we’re sure Steve is fine. “MY LEGS! MY LEEEEEEEGS!” Ha, classic Steve. Author's Note Will probably continue with some more things maybe, not sure. Chapter 2: Magical MeatTIME: 21:21 DATE: 03/14/84 LOCATION: 36.1215° N, 115.1739° W, right outside the city limits of Nal Regas Well, this was certainly a weird one. We got a call from Nal Regas of all places. Not really all that typical, since that bastardized super-church center never asks anyone for help. Well, help that isn’t money or organs, anyhow. Basically, what they wanted was for someone to check their sewers. Either it was another rat-people uprising, or some damn hippies had found another atomic bomb stored down there. Seriously, they hid them like easter eggs all underneath the city. Of course, we had no option but to say yes. You don’t say no to Nal Regas. Especially their master-in-chief-in-duty-kicking-communist-butt, Reagan Supreme. So we got a few technicians scrambled and sent some muscle along the way in case things got dicey. You never know when a plasma-fist to the face can save your life. The team’s only description of what to look for was a disturbance. Something about music and strange colors. All music other than Western tunes and pokla were banned (no wonder the suicide and zombie rate was so high there), so the team was told to keep their ears out for anything strange. After around twelve minutes and over fifteen rat-people attacks, the original group of a dozen was down to just three. The muscle, which in these circumstances we’ll just call Muscles, the technician, who we’ll just call Tech, and, of course, the team leader and official strategist… Steve. We really need to hire smarter people. Anyway, from their reports at the heart of the sewers, they discovered something amazing. An entire underground zombie society completely obsessed with gambling. Also, strippers. From the sounds of Muscles’ vomits, the zombie strippers weren’t all that appealing. Although Tech said the booze was pretty good. And Steve was… well… Dear Gawd, Steve, he’s a fraggin’ idiot. Anyway, seems like Reagan Supreme (if I don’t type it like that I’m liable to be crucified) had dumped anyone who didn’t want to join his super-church centered around Hollywood actors into the depths of the sewers. This was basically everyone. But hey, at least we had found the portal. Deep within the labyrinth of zombified flesh, cheap booze, and decaying genitalia proudly displayed, the team found what they were called down there looking for. A portal to another world. And from its depths could be heard the most beautiful music ever heard… if you were seven and had the intelligence of fruit. Which was around three-fifths of Amerikans, so go figure. This is the recording we picked up from when the team entered the portal. “Whoa, look, colorful midget horses!” “Uh, Tech, what is Steve trying to do?” “Looks like he’s trying to ride one of those things.” “Gawddamnit Steve, get back here before I plasma-fist you so hard you’ll be shitting lava for a week!” “Oh dear Celestia, not you people again.” “Wait, did that purple one recognize us?” “Well, you guys are do look the same. Ugly, dirty, and smelling vaguely of deep-fried hair.” “Wow, rude. Also, totally racist.” The rest of the transmission went along the lines of this midget horse called Twilight Sparkle (weird coincidence, that’s also the name of a popular Swedish death metal group) telling the rest of the team to beat it. Apparently these ‘ponies’ (I use this term extremely loosely because they really do look like a bunch of horses with their legs and bodies cut in half and then freakishly patched together to appear small, but we all really know what’s going on) already had some experience with us humans. I’m surprised the ponies are still alive, considering that most humans would have eaten them already. I wonder what midget horse meat tastes like… Anyway, a new player entered the game after that. This one horse with wings (bird-gene-splicing? altered clones? mutations? plastic surgery?) approached the group. Her name was Fluttershy (no relation to the former Dictator of Australialand I’m afraid to say) and she was instantly interested with the team. Apparently we were a never before seen species or some shit like that. If the aliens didn’t give two damns about us, why should mutant midget horses? So yeah, here’s what we managed to get from their transmission. “Dude, you’re eating the grass.” “Better than what they serve back home.” “...what flavor grass is that?” “Greetings. Oh, no, don’t be alarmed. My name is Fluttershy.” “Is that yellow horse talking to us?” “Nah, just Steve.” “Why isn’t she scared outta her fraggin’ mind?” “Because Steve is dressed in a bunny suit.” “Exactly my point!” Note to self: confiscate all bunny suits from future operations. “Steve, is it? My friend Twilight has told me so much about you from your last visit!” “Fluttershy, don’t touch it. It might have a disease. Actually, I’m almost positive it has several.” “Oh, Twilight, don’t worry. He’s just curious is all. Awww, look at him rolling around in the grass.” “He’s trying to get rid of his fleas.” “And look at what a good job he’s doing!” This boring monologue continued for an agonizing two minutes, so I’m just skipping to the main point. “Steve, would you mind telling me where you came from?” “A hole.” “Oh, so you live underground?” “Ever since the robot toaster uprising, yeah.” “Robot… toasters?” “Funny thing is that when they came up with AI they made sure to put a ‘repress kill all humans’ instinct drive onto their mainframe. But only for robots that can, well, actually kill you. No one bothered to put the drive in the toasters. Then what you get is total toaster annihilation of most of the west coast, burned around the edges.” “That’s… uh… interesting.” “So, what do you do?” “I take care of animals.” “HEY GUYS, THEY HAVE FREE FOOD HERE!” After that, the team booked it to Fluttershy’s cottage to grab as many animals as possible to feast upon. Muscles managed to snatch a chicken before that princess pony blew off his right hand with a laser-horn-magic-something-stupid-energy bolt. But hey, at least he can replace it with another plasma-fist and do double the fisting now. Heh, heh… … I have now been alerted that Muscles died recently double plasma-fisting himself. The poor, lonely bastard… Anyway, Tech grabbed a pig and high-tailed it back to the portal. The porker is currently under question with our top scientists to discover more about its world. Word has yet to reply of any success. Finally, Steve. By Gawd, Steve, you’re such a fraggin’ idiot. He tried to whisk one of the ponies away. Something about—and these are using his words—what magical midget horse meat tastes like. Before he could fill us in on this important query (I bet it tastes like oranges stuffed in tacos), the portal closed, trapping Steve on the other side. Luckily, we managed to snag one last message from him before the connection was lost, possibly forever. “You can't do this! I have rights! Freedoms! A Constitution that's currently sinking in the bottom of the ocean when Atlantis attacked, but still! If I wanna eat someone, I'll eat them! It's my life, unlife, liberty, unlibery, and pursuit of fraggin' happiness and every other feeling on the emotional chart! Give me meat, or give me—wait, no, not the face! Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Today is truly a sad day for us all. Well, not really, because Reagan Supreme gave us a buttload of credits for getting rid of the portal. Plus, I hear chicken is on the menu. Time to spend all the money on zombie hookers! Hooray! Author's Note The next Earth location is up to you, the audience, now! Just note that it will most likely be fucked up and radioactive. Chapter 3: That Ain't Calamari“Twilight! Twilight, come out here right now! It’s an emerg—” “What?” Twilight asked, shoving her door open right away. “What’s the emergency? What happened?” There was no one outside the entrance to the crystal castle. Twilight looked left and right, scowling at the emptiness. “Wait, is this another ding-dong-ditch? Snips and Snails, I swear if I catch you, I’ll—oh hey.” Twilight pulled the door back after she heard some aggressive knocking from where it was against the wall. Rainbow Dash fell to the ground, her entire body smooshed and having the consistency of paper. “Rainbow Dash, what were you doing hiding behind my door?” “Finding meaning in my life,” Dash grumbled from the ground. “Oh, really? What did you discover?” Growling under her breath, Dash picked herself up and gulped in several breaths of air to expand her body to its proper shape once more. “That I have an affinity for doorknobs! What do you think?!” Twilight tapped her chin for several seconds and stood in resolute silence. Finally, she raised a hoof in question and said, “I think you have weird tastes first of all—” “Never mind that! We have an emergency on our hooves!” Dash pointed to the distance outside of Ponyville. “Those weirdo creatures are back!” Twilight’s jaw dropped. “So soon? Where are they? What happened this time?” “Well… um… something really weird, actually.” Twilight’s brow arched. “Weirder than before?” Dash nodded with vigor. “Oooooooh yeah, definitely. They brought a creature with them. Or the creature brought them. It’s tough to say.” “What?” “Also, an Ursa Major in on the rampage and currently fighting the human creature-monster-thingy.” “WHAT?!” Twilight shooked her head to break out of her astonishment. “Whoa, hold up, the human monster and the Ursa Major are fighting each other? How?” “Well, they’re both pretty big,” Dash said, shrugging her shoulders. “Actually, right now it’s tough to say who’s winning.” “Listen, Dash, just bring me to this ‘monster’ and I’ll deal with it shortly. Make sure to evacuate everypony in Ponyville as well.” “Already on it,” Dash said with a salute. “Especially the foals. Those were the first ones to get evacuated for… obvious reasons.” “Because foals are our future?” “Uh… well, kinda. The fighting is especially…” Rainbow Dash cringed, shaking her head, “graphic.” “Graphic?” “Pornographic, if you’re catching my drift.” The silence between the two grew for several seconds, until Twilight finally popped it by asking with all seriousness, “What?” TIME: 12:12 DATE: 03/28/84 LOCATION: You know where, you sick fucks Well, another tentacle creature escaped. Actually, not so much as escape than a giant portal sucking it to another dimension. Go figures. Anyway, this one was a top priority ‘research’ asset (sick, sick research), and thus had to be returned back to testing post haste. The ‘scientists’ (sick, sick scientists) were prepared to send in the entire shogun robo-army after it, but a black ops squad was seen as more likely to defuse the situation without killing everyone… again. Since the portal was deep underwater in the creature’s enclosure, a submarine had to be ‘used’ (I would say stolen, but hey, the Ruskies have thousands of them, so it’s not like they’ll miss one or three dozen) to send the team in. One torpedo-pod later and the team was through the portal. This is what they were able to gleam from the other side. “Holy crap, it sure is sunny here.” “Why aren’t my eyeballs bleeding because of the sun?” “Who cares. Let’s just extract the tentacle abomination and get the hell out of here.” “Whoa, I think that’s it.” “Shiiiiiiiit, how’d it get so big in only a few minutes? It was only supposed to be as big as a bus. Now look at it.” “Oh Gawd, is it fighting… a giant bear?” “Holy frag, it is!” “Wait… no, it isn’t.” “What do you mean?” “Pay attention to where it’s tentacles are going.” “...Oh Gawd.” “Dear sweet Jeebus.” “That’s kinda hot.” After that, transmission was cut off. Later on the tentacle creature returned through the portal to its enclosure, and for some reason seeming rather chipper. I still have no idea where it got the cigarette from. As for the team, no word still from them. But the ‘scientists’ (that’s still the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard of) are pleased they got their seafood abomination back. Eh, it’s not a real big deal the entire team died. There was that one sicko Steve who was a member, and now I’ll never have to hear from him ever again and his weird fetishes along with it. Plus, I managed to swipe his paycheck before he kicked the bucket (he’d probably fuck it too if he could). I might just spend it on a dinner that doesn’t consist of radioactive rat meat and ramen. Although I think I’ll skip out on seafood for the next decade or two. Chapter 4: Goddamn AussiesTIME: 23:04 DATE: 06/12/84 LOCATION: AUSTRALIALAND™ Those assholes have finally done it this time. The dingo mutants got out of hand again with the emu emos. You’d think the latter would be easy to push around, but shit, mate, you ain’t ever seen an emu acting emo before. Shit is crazy like that. While both dingus sides (especially the dingos) started lobbing small-scale mini-nukes at each other (apparently they were having a sale on eBay for that shit), another one of those portal things opened up. Just our luck, am I right? Now, apparently it wasn’t to another eldritch abomination cesspit. Thank GOD™, because we just had one of those bastards tear up half the country last year. Literally half of it. Clear off. Half the fucking continent… country… fuck, whatever. Good thing no one lives here, or else the world might have cared. So, once the portal opened the government had to get involved because… well, I think they just wanted to chuck rocks down it and upload the video to Youtube. I think that’s pretty much the only way those guys make money nowadays. Well, other than Crackjuice™, but we all know that’s a sinking industry. Not since Heroinedelight™ took the shelves. Anyway, they sent a crack-team of special operatives down there to check things out. I use the term “crack” because the agents were really spokesmen for Crackjuice™ and were jaded on that shit all the time. Especially Steve. Seriously, fuck that guy. Also, I use the term “special” because right now even the mentally handicapped make these guys look like nitwits. No surprise, since half of them were throwing dead emu guts into the portal to see the purdy colors. And then there was Steve… eating the emu guts. Fucking GOD™-damnit, Steve. Eventually the others just threw Steve in because, seriously, everyone fucking hated him and he deserved it. Apparently from what the team could see (and tell from spitting down it) the portal was approximately one mile above the Earth (I’m using Imperial units here because the bloody Brits are assholes). Sadly enough, Steve made it. Bastard was a mutant with kangaroos and just survived the fall using his superior mutant muscle capabilities in his legs. Also, a jetpack, but the point still remains that Steve is just bloody awful. So, while Steve was down there, we managed to get an actual audio of him interacting with the alien inhabitants. Reports hold true that yes, they’re the midget horses. Points to the Aussies to actually keeping the recording it instead of just reporting it on a file that everyone shall soon forget in bureaucratic backlog. Suck it, rest of the world (that isn’t decimated by horrible nuclear annihilation (which isn’t much of it, apparently))! “OH GOD™ I CAN’T STOP!” “Twiiiiiiiliiiiiiight, another human is here!” “Oh dear Celestia, they can fly now! Get down, Pinkie, get down!” “MY EYEBALLS ARE BLEEDING! AND THEY’RE CYBERNETIC! WHYYYYYYYY!” “Pinkie, what are you doing?” “Roasting some marshmallows over the fire the human created.” “Pinkie, that’s Rarity!” “MY KANGAROO GENES DIDN’T PREPARE ME FOR SHIT IN THE REGARDS OF EXTREME G-FORCES!” “Oh man, oh man, oh man, what am I going to do? Princess Celestia is gonna kill me if I let a human destroy the entire town… again.” “Why Twilight, it’s quite simple.” “Pinkie, you know I can’t take you seriously while you’re trying to cook Rarity.” “Can you please tell her to put me down.” “All you need is a giant butterfly net to catch the human with. Problem solved!” “Seriously, my butt is starting to burn.” “Because that ass is hot, baby.” “Damnit, Pinkie, take things seriously for once!” “You’re right! I should really be turning Rarity over so that she won’t get burned and cook evenly.” “AHHHHHHHHHHHH MY UPPER INTESTINES ARE NOW MY LOWER INTESTINES! MY STOMACH IS MY NEW BLADDER! THANK GOD™ I DIDN’T HAVE A NORMAL FUNCTIONING BRAIN TO BEGIN WITH BEFORE THIS ENDEAVOR!” “Hey look, Twilight, the human is flying higher and higher into the sky!” “Why do I smell so appetizing right now...” “Wait a second… Pinkie, he’s coming back down! And spiraling out of control!” “Well, create a giant forcefield around the town! Quickly! Before Rarity gets burned!” “I wonder what pony meat tastes like.” “Dear Celestia, he broke the forcefield with his head! Brace for impact!” “Oh hey, that’s where the parachute button is.” What happened to Steve and his parachute is still unknown, since that’s when the audio cut off. I’m just gonna put him down as dead and deceased and now reincarnated as a zombie juuuuuuuuuuuuust to be safe. Plus, I can spend his pension on beer. In any event, the portal closed soon afterward. I think the rest of the agents were eaten by the dingo mutants. Overall a pretty great day. Mostly because of the beer. Seriously, fuck Steve but at least he died usefully. Or not. I’dunno. In any event, the only downside is that the government lost one nuclear-charged jetpack, but really, you can buy one for twenty bucks off of eBay. Along with a gorilla heart and several famous celebrities’ souls, but I think I’ll just spend Steve’s pension on beer. Sweet, delicious, slightly radioactive beer.
Chapter 1: Steve Does It AgainTIME: 20:56 DATE: 02/02/84 LOCATION: 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W, within the remains of Old York City, Times Square The team has been called into the area because of a recent fluctuation with radio signals. Once the radiation suits had been donned and the immediate location scanned for mutants, it was deemed safe to search. No immediate threats were detected. Radar picked up no scans of enemy targets or even a hint of a Robotic Ruskie in the area. A fallout still hung overhead, which won’t be going away anytime soon for nearly twenty years now. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining radioactive snow on any of the team. Radiation-proof umbrellas are just too damn expensive. Eventually, the disturbance in the radio signal was discovered. And not a moment too soon. The lotto was about to start. The East Coast Correlation of Yanks were threatening to bomb TexasCo (again) because of it. Damn state-countries can’t get it together with these types of emergencies. One of the team members, let’s call him Steve (note that all team members are referred as Steve, even the females, mostly to save time and because they die too soon for us to remember their names or care about it), was the first to discover the disturbance. From what he’s frantically screaming in our compiece, it’s apparently a doozy. Apparently it’s nothing to really be excited about. Just another portal to a different dimension. However, this one was actually big enough for someone to fit through, which was quite different than those others that just poured toxic chemicals or candy wrappers wherever they pop up. I swear, they’re becoming more annoying than frontal lobe advertisements. Since the portal was messing with the radio signals, something had to be done about it. The team was originally intended to handle malfunctioning electrical boxes, shorted out cable wires, and the odd psychopath with an axe made out of recycled soda cans, but they had the clearance for the go-ahead to explore inside the portal. Who knew how long it would stay open. Plus, like I said, threat of nuclear annihilation between two former Amerika state-countries. Something like that hasn’t happened since last October (no one liked Kansas Korp anyway). Once they entered the portal we lost all visual contact with the team, but we did have voice communications up and running, so this is what we were able to gleam from their discover. “Holy shit, it’s sunny here.” “Can you smell that? It’s fresh air! Oh Gawd, I never thought I’d smell it again!” “I don’t even have a nose and I can tell it’s fresh!” “Whoa, whoa, guys, look! It’s the sun! And my skin isn’t immediately burning off! This is amazing!” “By Gandhi's nuclear, zombified corpse, this place has grass! And not just GRASS™, but actual grass!” “OH GAWD THEY HAVE WATER AND MY TEETH AREN’T FALLING OFF BY DRINKING IT! THIS IS HEAVEN!” Apparently from the recordings the team had found a true paradise not on Earth. When we pressed them to explore further, Steve told us to fuck off because he was sniffing flowers. We deducted such a remark on the marks in Steve’s paycheck. We don’t know which Steve so we just chose one from random. That’d show him. Good thing for us, the team didn’t need to explore further before some natives discovered them. We were surprised the team wasn’t killed immediately by some weird alien monster thingy, and that surprise just grew more so when we heard this. “Uh, excuse me. Who are you monst—erm, things… people. Just what are you?” “By the Queen’s cyborg heart, it’s a talking midget horse!” “You mean a pony?” “Nah, that’s clearly a dog.” “Dogs can talk?” “With an implant I think you can make them. You just gotta—” “Excuse me! I still have a question.” “We, tiny-midget-talking-horse, are a group of adventurers from a far away land. We are in the search for a great treasure. You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have any hotpockets and Mt. Dew on you, perchance? Ever since the Ruskies stole the Mt. Dew factories from the moon I haven’t had a sip in ages!” “I’m… not even sure what Mt. Dew is. And did you just say you’re from the moon? And what’s a hotpocket?” This continued on for a tedious five minutes. We learned the midget horse was called Twilight Sparkle, apparently some princess or some shit like that. It was very hard to pay attention because the team kept on raving about how large the creatures’ eyes were. Also, the colors. Most of them were color blind due to birth defects, but apparently it was still pretty neat. Oh, also the fact that the creatures had freakishly large craniums and some even had horns and wings. Looks like they had worse birth defects than we did. One of the team was worried the midget horse was going to suck his brains out through a straw. Ha, classic Steve. Oh, anyway, another recording got through before the, well, end. “Are you guys eating the grass now?” “Better than what the serve back home!” “I don’t really think that’s healthy.” “Nah, it’s fine. I have more tumors than stomach at this point.” “Uh, look, I think you all really need to… well, leave. Some other ponies from Ponyville are freaking out at the sight of you. One of your people tried to ride them.” “Ha, classic Steve.” “Listen, it’s not funny. None of that is. We tried to get along with you people through understanding and acceptance, but you just shoved it aside and asked for more hotpockets.” “Your hotpockets are too cold, by the way.” “I don’t even know what a hotpocket is, by the way. I tried to learn more about who and what you are from the short time that you’ve been here, and from the gist of it, I don’t like it a bit. Especially Nixonlord. Jeez, what a creep.” “Hey, I didn’t vote for him.” “I did it five times.” “Gawddamnit, Steve.” “Still, even the most fundamental lesson about friendship I tried to teach you was thrown back into my face.” “Because friendship is gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” “Now, that isn’t very nice to say.” “No, it is, literally. Friendship means happiness. And everything knows happiness is gay.” “...” “Hey Steve, you’re gay, right?” “Go back through your damn portal.” And with that the team was pushed back through. No sign of Steve though. One can only think he stayed behind, forever in bliss in the midget horse lands. Or he could be dead. Either way, we spent his paycheck on hookers. Good news is that the radio signal was fixed and Steve was dead. Bad news is that the different dimension was really stuck up and lame. Just like the cuddling bear tattoo dimension. Or the fuzzy dinosaur one. Man, what a bunch of lame-o’s. Oh hey, we’re still getting a signal from Steve in the other dimension. “My Little Midget Horse, My Little Midget Horse.” “Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahhh…” “I used to wonder what friendship could be.” “Until all you sha—” … That was about it. Well, other than savage beating and cries for help. But we’re sure Steve is fine. “MY LEGS! MY LEEEEEEEGS!” Ha, classic Steve. Author's Note Will probably continue with some more things maybe, not sure.
Chapter 2: Magical MeatTIME: 21:21 DATE: 03/14/84 LOCATION: 36.1215° N, 115.1739° W, right outside the city limits of Nal Regas Well, this was certainly a weird one. We got a call from Nal Regas of all places. Not really all that typical, since that bastardized super-church center never asks anyone for help. Well, help that isn’t money or organs, anyhow. Basically, what they wanted was for someone to check their sewers. Either it was another rat-people uprising, or some damn hippies had found another atomic bomb stored down there. Seriously, they hid them like easter eggs all underneath the city. Of course, we had no option but to say yes. You don’t say no to Nal Regas. Especially their master-in-chief-in-duty-kicking-communist-butt, Reagan Supreme. So we got a few technicians scrambled and sent some muscle along the way in case things got dicey. You never know when a plasma-fist to the face can save your life. The team’s only description of what to look for was a disturbance. Something about music and strange colors. All music other than Western tunes and pokla were banned (no wonder the suicide and zombie rate was so high there), so the team was told to keep their ears out for anything strange. After around twelve minutes and over fifteen rat-people attacks, the original group of a dozen was down to just three. The muscle, which in these circumstances we’ll just call Muscles, the technician, who we’ll just call Tech, and, of course, the team leader and official strategist… Steve. We really need to hire smarter people. Anyway, from their reports at the heart of the sewers, they discovered something amazing. An entire underground zombie society completely obsessed with gambling. Also, strippers. From the sounds of Muscles’ vomits, the zombie strippers weren’t all that appealing. Although Tech said the booze was pretty good. And Steve was… well… Dear Gawd, Steve, he’s a fraggin’ idiot. Anyway, seems like Reagan Supreme (if I don’t type it like that I’m liable to be crucified) had dumped anyone who didn’t want to join his super-church centered around Hollywood actors into the depths of the sewers. This was basically everyone. But hey, at least we had found the portal. Deep within the labyrinth of zombified flesh, cheap booze, and decaying genitalia proudly displayed, the team found what they were called down there looking for. A portal to another world. And from its depths could be heard the most beautiful music ever heard… if you were seven and had the intelligence of fruit. Which was around three-fifths of Amerikans, so go figure. This is the recording we picked up from when the team entered the portal. “Whoa, look, colorful midget horses!” “Uh, Tech, what is Steve trying to do?” “Looks like he’s trying to ride one of those things.” “Gawddamnit Steve, get back here before I plasma-fist you so hard you’ll be shitting lava for a week!” “Oh dear Celestia, not you people again.” “Wait, did that purple one recognize us?” “Well, you guys are do look the same. Ugly, dirty, and smelling vaguely of deep-fried hair.” “Wow, rude. Also, totally racist.” The rest of the transmission went along the lines of this midget horse called Twilight Sparkle (weird coincidence, that’s also the name of a popular Swedish death metal group) telling the rest of the team to beat it. Apparently these ‘ponies’ (I use this term extremely loosely because they really do look like a bunch of horses with their legs and bodies cut in half and then freakishly patched together to appear small, but we all really know what’s going on) already had some experience with us humans. I’m surprised the ponies are still alive, considering that most humans would have eaten them already. I wonder what midget horse meat tastes like… Anyway, a new player entered the game after that. This one horse with wings (bird-gene-splicing? altered clones? mutations? plastic surgery?) approached the group. Her name was Fluttershy (no relation to the former Dictator of Australialand I’m afraid to say) and she was instantly interested with the team. Apparently we were a never before seen species or some shit like that. If the aliens didn’t give two damns about us, why should mutant midget horses? So yeah, here’s what we managed to get from their transmission. “Dude, you’re eating the grass.” “Better than what they serve back home.” “...what flavor grass is that?” “Greetings. Oh, no, don’t be alarmed. My name is Fluttershy.” “Is that yellow horse talking to us?” “Nah, just Steve.” “Why isn’t she scared outta her fraggin’ mind?” “Because Steve is dressed in a bunny suit.” “Exactly my point!” Note to self: confiscate all bunny suits from future operations. “Steve, is it? My friend Twilight has told me so much about you from your last visit!” “Fluttershy, don’t touch it. It might have a disease. Actually, I’m almost positive it has several.” “Oh, Twilight, don’t worry. He’s just curious is all. Awww, look at him rolling around in the grass.” “He’s trying to get rid of his fleas.” “And look at what a good job he’s doing!” This boring monologue continued for an agonizing two minutes, so I’m just skipping to the main point. “Steve, would you mind telling me where you came from?” “A hole.” “Oh, so you live underground?” “Ever since the robot toaster uprising, yeah.” “Robot… toasters?” “Funny thing is that when they came up with AI they made sure to put a ‘repress kill all humans’ instinct drive onto their mainframe. But only for robots that can, well, actually kill you. No one bothered to put the drive in the toasters. Then what you get is total toaster annihilation of most of the west coast, burned around the edges.” “That’s… uh… interesting.” “So, what do you do?” “I take care of animals.” “HEY GUYS, THEY HAVE FREE FOOD HERE!” After that, the team booked it to Fluttershy’s cottage to grab as many animals as possible to feast upon. Muscles managed to snatch a chicken before that princess pony blew off his right hand with a laser-horn-magic-something-stupid-energy bolt. But hey, at least he can replace it with another plasma-fist and do double the fisting now. Heh, heh… … I have now been alerted that Muscles died recently double plasma-fisting himself. The poor, lonely bastard… Anyway, Tech grabbed a pig and high-tailed it back to the portal. The porker is currently under question with our top scientists to discover more about its world. Word has yet to reply of any success. Finally, Steve. By Gawd, Steve, you’re such a fraggin’ idiot. He tried to whisk one of the ponies away. Something about—and these are using his words—what magical midget horse meat tastes like. Before he could fill us in on this important query (I bet it tastes like oranges stuffed in tacos), the portal closed, trapping Steve on the other side. Luckily, we managed to snag one last message from him before the connection was lost, possibly forever. “You can't do this! I have rights! Freedoms! A Constitution that's currently sinking in the bottom of the ocean when Atlantis attacked, but still! If I wanna eat someone, I'll eat them! It's my life, unlife, liberty, unlibery, and pursuit of fraggin' happiness and every other feeling on the emotional chart! Give me meat, or give me—wait, no, not the face! Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Today is truly a sad day for us all. Well, not really, because Reagan Supreme gave us a buttload of credits for getting rid of the portal. Plus, I hear chicken is on the menu. Time to spend all the money on zombie hookers! Hooray! Author's Note The next Earth location is up to you, the audience, now! Just note that it will most likely be fucked up and radioactive.
Chapter 3: That Ain't Calamari“Twilight! Twilight, come out here right now! It’s an emerg—” “What?” Twilight asked, shoving her door open right away. “What’s the emergency? What happened?” There was no one outside the entrance to the crystal castle. Twilight looked left and right, scowling at the emptiness. “Wait, is this another ding-dong-ditch? Snips and Snails, I swear if I catch you, I’ll—oh hey.” Twilight pulled the door back after she heard some aggressive knocking from where it was against the wall. Rainbow Dash fell to the ground, her entire body smooshed and having the consistency of paper. “Rainbow Dash, what were you doing hiding behind my door?” “Finding meaning in my life,” Dash grumbled from the ground. “Oh, really? What did you discover?” Growling under her breath, Dash picked herself up and gulped in several breaths of air to expand her body to its proper shape once more. “That I have an affinity for doorknobs! What do you think?!” Twilight tapped her chin for several seconds and stood in resolute silence. Finally, she raised a hoof in question and said, “I think you have weird tastes first of all—” “Never mind that! We have an emergency on our hooves!” Dash pointed to the distance outside of Ponyville. “Those weirdo creatures are back!” Twilight’s jaw dropped. “So soon? Where are they? What happened this time?” “Well… um… something really weird, actually.” Twilight’s brow arched. “Weirder than before?” Dash nodded with vigor. “Oooooooh yeah, definitely. They brought a creature with them. Or the creature brought them. It’s tough to say.” “What?” “Also, an Ursa Major in on the rampage and currently fighting the human creature-monster-thingy.” “WHAT?!” Twilight shooked her head to break out of her astonishment. “Whoa, hold up, the human monster and the Ursa Major are fighting each other? How?” “Well, they’re both pretty big,” Dash said, shrugging her shoulders. “Actually, right now it’s tough to say who’s winning.” “Listen, Dash, just bring me to this ‘monster’ and I’ll deal with it shortly. Make sure to evacuate everypony in Ponyville as well.” “Already on it,” Dash said with a salute. “Especially the foals. Those were the first ones to get evacuated for… obvious reasons.” “Because foals are our future?” “Uh… well, kinda. The fighting is especially…” Rainbow Dash cringed, shaking her head, “graphic.” “Graphic?” “Pornographic, if you’re catching my drift.” The silence between the two grew for several seconds, until Twilight finally popped it by asking with all seriousness, “What?” TIME: 12:12 DATE: 03/28/84 LOCATION: You know where, you sick fucks Well, another tentacle creature escaped. Actually, not so much as escape than a giant portal sucking it to another dimension. Go figures. Anyway, this one was a top priority ‘research’ asset (sick, sick research), and thus had to be returned back to testing post haste. The ‘scientists’ (sick, sick scientists) were prepared to send in the entire shogun robo-army after it, but a black ops squad was seen as more likely to defuse the situation without killing everyone… again. Since the portal was deep underwater in the creature’s enclosure, a submarine had to be ‘used’ (I would say stolen, but hey, the Ruskies have thousands of them, so it’s not like they’ll miss one or three dozen) to send the team in. One torpedo-pod later and the team was through the portal. This is what they were able to gleam from the other side. “Holy crap, it sure is sunny here.” “Why aren’t my eyeballs bleeding because of the sun?” “Who cares. Let’s just extract the tentacle abomination and get the hell out of here.” “Whoa, I think that’s it.” “Shiiiiiiiit, how’d it get so big in only a few minutes? It was only supposed to be as big as a bus. Now look at it.” “Oh Gawd, is it fighting… a giant bear?” “Holy frag, it is!” “Wait… no, it isn’t.” “What do you mean?” “Pay attention to where it’s tentacles are going.” “...Oh Gawd.” “Dear sweet Jeebus.” “That’s kinda hot.” After that, transmission was cut off. Later on the tentacle creature returned through the portal to its enclosure, and for some reason seeming rather chipper. I still have no idea where it got the cigarette from. As for the team, no word still from them. But the ‘scientists’ (that’s still the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard of) are pleased they got their seafood abomination back. Eh, it’s not a real big deal the entire team died. There was that one sicko Steve who was a member, and now I’ll never have to hear from him ever again and his weird fetishes along with it. Plus, I managed to swipe his paycheck before he kicked the bucket (he’d probably fuck it too if he could). I might just spend it on a dinner that doesn’t consist of radioactive rat meat and ramen. Although I think I’ll skip out on seafood for the next decade or two.
Chapter 4: Goddamn AussiesTIME: 23:04 DATE: 06/12/84 LOCATION: AUSTRALIALAND™ Those assholes have finally done it this time. The dingo mutants got out of hand again with the emu emos. You’d think the latter would be easy to push around, but shit, mate, you ain’t ever seen an emu acting emo before. Shit is crazy like that. While both dingus sides (especially the dingos) started lobbing small-scale mini-nukes at each other (apparently they were having a sale on eBay for that shit), another one of those portal things opened up. Just our luck, am I right? Now, apparently it wasn’t to another eldritch abomination cesspit. Thank GOD™, because we just had one of those bastards tear up half the country last year. Literally half of it. Clear off. Half the fucking continent… country… fuck, whatever. Good thing no one lives here, or else the world might have cared. So, once the portal opened the government had to get involved because… well, I think they just wanted to chuck rocks down it and upload the video to Youtube. I think that’s pretty much the only way those guys make money nowadays. Well, other than Crackjuice™, but we all know that’s a sinking industry. Not since Heroinedelight™ took the shelves. Anyway, they sent a crack-team of special operatives down there to check things out. I use the term “crack” because the agents were really spokesmen for Crackjuice™ and were jaded on that shit all the time. Especially Steve. Seriously, fuck that guy. Also, I use the term “special” because right now even the mentally handicapped make these guys look like nitwits. No surprise, since half of them were throwing dead emu guts into the portal to see the purdy colors. And then there was Steve… eating the emu guts. Fucking GOD™-damnit, Steve. Eventually the others just threw Steve in because, seriously, everyone fucking hated him and he deserved it. Apparently from what the team could see (and tell from spitting down it) the portal was approximately one mile above the Earth (I’m using Imperial units here because the bloody Brits are assholes). Sadly enough, Steve made it. Bastard was a mutant with kangaroos and just survived the fall using his superior mutant muscle capabilities in his legs. Also, a jetpack, but the point still remains that Steve is just bloody awful. So, while Steve was down there, we managed to get an actual audio of him interacting with the alien inhabitants. Reports hold true that yes, they’re the midget horses. Points to the Aussies to actually keeping the recording it instead of just reporting it on a file that everyone shall soon forget in bureaucratic backlog. Suck it, rest of the world (that isn’t decimated by horrible nuclear annihilation (which isn’t much of it, apparently))! “OH GOD™ I CAN’T STOP!” “Twiiiiiiiliiiiiiight, another human is here!” “Oh dear Celestia, they can fly now! Get down, Pinkie, get down!” “MY EYEBALLS ARE BLEEDING! AND THEY’RE CYBERNETIC! WHYYYYYYYY!” “Pinkie, what are you doing?” “Roasting some marshmallows over the fire the human created.” “Pinkie, that’s Rarity!” “MY KANGAROO GENES DIDN’T PREPARE ME FOR SHIT IN THE REGARDS OF EXTREME G-FORCES!” “Oh man, oh man, oh man, what am I going to do? Princess Celestia is gonna kill me if I let a human destroy the entire town… again.” “Why Twilight, it’s quite simple.” “Pinkie, you know I can’t take you seriously while you’re trying to cook Rarity.” “Can you please tell her to put me down.” “All you need is a giant butterfly net to catch the human with. Problem solved!” “Seriously, my butt is starting to burn.” “Because that ass is hot, baby.” “Damnit, Pinkie, take things seriously for once!” “You’re right! I should really be turning Rarity over so that she won’t get burned and cook evenly.” “AHHHHHHHHHHHH MY UPPER INTESTINES ARE NOW MY LOWER INTESTINES! MY STOMACH IS MY NEW BLADDER! THANK GOD™ I DIDN’T HAVE A NORMAL FUNCTIONING BRAIN TO BEGIN WITH BEFORE THIS ENDEAVOR!” “Hey look, Twilight, the human is flying higher and higher into the sky!” “Why do I smell so appetizing right now...” “Wait a second… Pinkie, he’s coming back down! And spiraling out of control!” “Well, create a giant forcefield around the town! Quickly! Before Rarity gets burned!” “I wonder what pony meat tastes like.” “Dear Celestia, he broke the forcefield with his head! Brace for impact!” “Oh hey, that’s where the parachute button is.” What happened to Steve and his parachute is still unknown, since that’s when the audio cut off. I’m just gonna put him down as dead and deceased and now reincarnated as a zombie juuuuuuuuuuuuust to be safe. Plus, I can spend his pension on beer. In any event, the portal closed soon afterward. I think the rest of the agents were eaten by the dingo mutants. Overall a pretty great day. Mostly because of the beer. Seriously, fuck Steve but at least he died usefully. Or not. I’dunno. In any event, the only downside is that the government lost one nuclear-charged jetpack, but really, you can buy one for twenty bucks off of eBay. Along with a gorilla heart and several famous celebrities’ souls, but I think I’ll just spend Steve’s pension on beer. Sweet, delicious, slightly radioactive beer.
